A Short Story by Derek McMillan
Blackridge is a Sunset home on the South Coast, I have lived here
for…a long time.
The housekeeper, Ilka, is a saint. How she puts up with the other
residents is a mystery.
I spend my time in my room away from the others.
Ilka called me in to breakfast. I sit with Richard and Harry. Other
residents call us “The Three Stooges” .
Ilka put a boiled egg in front of Rich.
“What is this?” he asked.
“An egg,” she replied.
Rich continued to look at it with a puzzled expression.
Ilka cut the top off.
“You’ve ruined it now,” said Rich. He looked at the spoon.
Ilka put the spoon in the egg.
Rich made a mess of it.
The next day, Ilka called me in to breakfast. She reminded me to put
trousers on.
I share a table with two other residents. Some of the women call us “The
Three…” something.
It was one of the others, who looked askance at his knife and fork.
After a while he threw the knife across the dining room. It startled
Persephone the cat who was relaxing on the window ledge.
Ilka brought a clean knife and cut up his food. He made a bit of a mess
of it.
“What day is it?” he asked a few times.
All days are the same at Blackridge.
The next morning there was a strange woman knocking at my door.
“Who the devil are you?” I asked.
“Ilka,” she said patiently.
